


Carolling

by Merixcil



Series: Advent Fics 2017 [14]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: Arthur's drunk, dreaming and trying very hard not to fall for Eames all over again
Relationships: Arthur & Eames (Inception), Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: Advent Fics 2017 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767640
Kudos: 1





	Carolling

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for some potentially weird gender scenarios - a character presenting so that they can be mistaken as a different gender and some pronoun switching accompanying this

“Don’t suppose you’d be up for a spot of carolling tonight?”

Arthur blinks. The woman’s mouth is moving but its Eames’ voice that’s coming out, echoing around the stifling walls of the dreamspace, a dingy little bar that both of them have come to dressed nicer than they ought to be. This is small time criminal work, digging into the pockets of some rich asshole just because they can, or because it’s the weekend, or because he can’t remember the last time he and Eames worked together on something without interference and this seemed like a good idea when they were drunk.

The question is, did they both have the idea to scam this guy (Lord Fotherington, Arthur thinks that name sounds familiar. Arthur serving as architect and point while Eames grifts. It’s hard to tell though, the guy he’s trying to be in the dream isn’t drunk but his body’s definitely still struggling under the weight of the unfairly good whiskey Eames advertised as an early Christmas present) or did Eames plan this from the start? Truth be told, Arthur doesn’t really care either way but he’d like to pretend to be scandalised if this was all a ruse to get him in to the dreamspace.

They used to spend a lot of time in dreamspace together, in another life, according to their legal records.

“Like, singing? You mean, in the dream?” Arthur asks. “Because I’ve never been able to dream that I was a good singer.”

The woman smiles, one corner of her mouth fractionally higher than the other and it’s exactly the same way Eames always smiles when he thinks he’s being smart. When she opens her mouth she’s still talking with his voice. “You won’t have to. I’ve got some mates who are heading out in an hour or so. If we finish up here without a hitch we should be able to catch them.

“Wasn’t it after ten when we plugged in?”

“Yes, well. Carolling tends to earn you more friends if you do it after hours when no one can hear you.” Eames leans forward to take a sip of his drink, shoulders hunched too high to be ladylike and Arthur only knows this because he’s seen Eames be ladylike hundreds of times. This is one of a handful of slip ups, the likes of which don’t come around all that often.

Something moves on the other side of the room, the mark getting up like he intends to leave. Arthur nods towards him and has to suppress a laugh watching Eames straighten himself out, fall into the voice that he always uses for this character. He sidles up to Lord Fotherington and with a sly little smile leans in to ask if he knows anywhere that they could slip away to, just the two of them.

Arthur tries very hard not to pretend that he sees Eames’ eyes slide over him when he speaks. Even after all this time, even seeing him there in someone else’s skin with someone else’s voice, he’s spent far too much time on jobs with Eames not to know that it’s him, in that bone deep way that no grifter can overcome. It’s kind of comforting to think that Eames can’t fool him, no matter what disguise he takes. They know each other too well.

By the time Arthur realises that Eames has started singing, he’s already leaning into the music. What is it about rich folk and having women stop the world to entertain them? Foterington eats that shit right up, smug grin plastered across his round ruddy face, grinning back to the projections he'd been drinking with like they have it in themselves to care. It’s stupid, unnecessarily sultry, Eames slipping into Santa Baby in the blink of an eye and though Arthur knows it's the woman’s voice rising through the dreamed smoke floating around them, he can ear Eames real voice buried beneath it, deep and rich and all kind of wrong. He swears Eames isn’t supposed to be able to sing.

“So.” Arthur starts, when Eames drops back into the barstool opposite him and flashes the piece of paper pulled from Lord Fotherington’s pocket containing his bank details. “Carols?”

Eames smirks at him and doesn’t even try being ladylike when he leans in to finish off his glass. “Won you over, have I?”

Arthur takes a long sip of is drink and tries to feel as drunk in this version of reality as he does in the real world. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'advent fics' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have
> 
> Comments on the previous posting of this fic (just ask if you want me to remove yours) include:  
> >melody1987: I’m falling deep into this ship and this lovely little thing isn’t helping!  
> >>Merixcil: Fall deeper, Mel! The water's lovely


End file.
